


Home to Roost

by gleefulmusings



Series: Turning Tables [12]
Category: Glee, Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dysfunctional Family, Family Secrets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: Kurt is not happy to have a serial killer in the family, but he's even more disgusted by cowardice. He tracks down his grandmother and tells her just what he thinks of her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 'Tis the season and all that.
> 
> There might be a second part to this later, but it's just as likely there won't be. This is unrelated to _Identity_.

Keri Tate and her son John argued heatedly as they headed toward her office. Well, Keri stomped as John sloped. As the headmistress of a posh Northern California boarding school, she knew she should be setting a better example for the students giving her a wide berth in the hallways, but they were used to such sights.

All she and John did was argue, especially after he turned seventeen. She knew she was often unreasonable to the point of suffocating, but had long since given up the ghost of trying to being anything else. She knew what was to come.

She had counted down the days – minutes, seconds – from John’s birth until he turned seventeen. Despite this, the time had flown and she had been too wrapped up in trying to be the best mother she could be, given how dysfunctional she was.

First it was the pills, mostly anti-anxiety and anti-depressant meds, but they had done little to help. Next it was the booze, a little wine to wash down the pills, which quickly turned to vodka.

Therapy had been a bust. There was no cure for what ailed her. Some people were just destined to be haunted.

She had driven away her husband, whom she had never loved but married for the sake of their child. She was dangerously close to alienating John for good. She just couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She was terrified. She had spent so many years trying to prepare John, doing her best to ensure he would live. Somewhere along the way, he had decided she was simply paranoid, unable or unwilling to move past what had been done to her. At first, she had thought his insistence that it was over, was to try and ease her suffering. Now he simply believed that it was.

She couldn’t blame him. He had grown up with the stories, but they were merely echoes of her fear, divorced from any real meaning to him. Maybe he was in denial or maybe he just thought his mother insane. She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she cared. No matter what she said or did, she knew the Bogeyman was real.

John, meanwhile, had gotten over his childish fear of the dark, refusing to believe things that went bump in the night were real and knocked pretty damn hard.

She tuned out his manly whining about the camping trip, which she knew was nothing more than an excuse to be alone with and possibly bed Molly. He wanted to be a teenager and resented his mother’s constant interference in his life, which she understood.

She sighed as she entered the administrative office, frowning when she noted the absence of her secretary, and stalked toward her private office, John nipping at her heels like a terrier. She rolled her eyes and threw open the door.

They paused in their arguing when her desk chair slowly began swiveling around to face them. A young boy with pale skin and enormous blue eyes regarded them with a placid look underscored with deep loathing. It was unlike anything they had ever before experienced, stunned that a child could project such malevolence.

“Hello, Laurie.”

 

* * *

  

Keri Tate, once Laurie Strode, flinched at the sound of her own name. Despite her insistence to the contrary, she was still Laurie in her own mind. _Keri_ was merely a means to an end, something she called herself because it had less baggage.

Who was this child and what did he know? He was too young to have lived through the murders, probably not even born when her face had been splashed all over the papers. That it all happened prior to the internet was a blessing on which she had counted for years. Sometimes she might get second looks, but no one ever truly thought she was _that_ girl. The final girl.

John was struck with the horrifying reality that his mother had not exaggerated. That all of the times he had dismissed her fear and terror must have been like a slap across her face. If someone, even this kid, knew who she was, had tracked her down _here_ , and had waltzed into the school, completely bypassing security, was it really a stretch to believe there wouldn’t be others? That _he_ wouldn’t come for her?

“Who are you?” Laurie demanded in her stern schoolmarm voice, thoroughly pissed off when the boy only arched a brow.

“I should congratulate you,” the boy said in a lazy voice. “You were difficult to find, though not impossible. It was harder than I suspected, which I suppose suggests that anyone truly not looking for you won’t bother.”

He tilted his head. “Of course, we all know someone _is_ looking.” He shrugged and stood, slowly walking around the desk until he was in front of it, before leaning back against it. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I guess I just wanted to see you. I wanted to look into your eyes and see if anything familiar might be looking back.”

She frowned in confusion.

“It’s like looking into a funhouse mirror, where everything is the same, only exaggerated. You’re clever, but not exceptionally intelligent. You’re brave when it counts, but otherwise gutless. He’ll come for you again and you’ll probably survive. The only question is how high the body count will be this time.”

“Who the hell are you to talk to my mother like that?” John roared.

The boy offered a slow blink in reply. “Your mother,” he slowly repeated, a sneer appearing on his face. “Well, it appears even my research abilities are flawed. I had believed you were only some distant relation or stepchild.” He clucked his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

He crossed his arms. “My name is Kurt. As to why this is relevant to you, it would appear I am your nephew.”

Laurie felt faint and struggled to stay upright, as John just stared in confusion.

Kurt’s eyes turned arctic as they slid over to Laurie. “I’m Jamie’s son.” He gave her a brittle smile. “Hi, Granny.”

She fell to the floor, unconscious.

 

* * *

 

She woke several minutes later, at first unsure where she was before recognizing her office couch. Her mind immediately sought to repress what had just happened and, for a moment, she allowed the comforting denial to blanket her in its warm cocoon. Then she heard John shouting and realized this was truly happening.

She moaned and struggled to sit up, John racing to her side to offer his support, babbling questions so quickly she couldn’t comprehend them. She felt a stare boring into her.

“How is she?” she croaked. “How is my little girl?”

John dropped his arms to his sides as his eyes bugged out.

Kurt shrugged. "Dead."

She sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at the floor. Oh, dear god. Her baby was gone. She hadn’t understood until just this moment how much she had depended on the idea that Jamie was out there in the world, living her live, free from the curse of this family. She should have had the strength to let John go, as well. She had no business being a mother.

“So he didn’t get her,” she whispered in relief, shoulders sagging. “He never found her.”

Kurt arched a brow in surprise. “You really don’t know?” was his flabbergasted response.

“What the hell is even happening?” John exclaimed.

“Know what?” Laurie demanded.

Kurt offered a dark chuckle. “He came for her when she was seven and again when she was nine. Both times he laid waste to Haddonfield. The second time he left, he took her with him.”

Laurie looked up at him, eyes filled with horror, shaking her head.

“Someone better tell me right now just what the hell is going on!” John thundered.

Kurt smiled. “Of course, Uncle John,” he said, ignoring the boy’s full-body spasm. “As previously stated, my name is Kurt and I am the son of Jamie Lloyd, who was the daughter of Laurie Strode and Jimmy Lloyd.”

John said nothing, his stomach sinking. Some part of him, though he was desperate to deny it, believed he was being told the truth. As much as he loved his mother, he didn’t trust her, not where Michael Myers was concerned, and he found this all too plausible.

“Jimmy Lloyd,” he murmured. “He was the EMT who tried to help Mom escape from the hospital that night.”

Kurt nodded. “Yes, they were the only two survivors. They married later that year and had my mother the year following. Right after Mom turned six, they were in a car accident. Jimmy died. Laurie faked her death because she knew that it wasn’t over. My mother was put into the foster care system.”

John set his jaw and turned on his mother. “You just abandoned your kid? How could you do that?!”

Laurie said nothing, hanging her head.

“Because she knew Uncle Michael would return,” Kurt said, “and I believe she was trying to protect her daughter. That’s the only reason I haven’t killed her yet.”

John and Laurie looked at him in surprise.

Kurt’s eyes narrowed to slits. “No matter your good intentions, you didn’t plan well enough. The least you could have done was get her the hell out of Illinois. Instead you left her in Haddonfield and to the tender mercies of a town with a long memory. They never saw her as your daughter, but as _his_ niece, and they made sure she never forgot it.”

Laurie covered her mouth with a trembling hand, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Kids are cruel,” Kurt said, “and they were very cruel to her. The only consolation was that she ended up with a foster family who truly loved her and didn’t care about what people said or the legacy into which she was born.”

Laurie closed her eyes and gave silent thanks for that family.

“Mom had been having nightmares for weeks leading up that Halloween,” Kurt whispered. “She was only seven, but convinced Michael was coming for. And he did, ten years after his last visit to Haddonfield.”

“But she survived,” Laurie sobbed. “She made it.”

“She was only a little kid!” John shouted.

Kurt glared at her, affronted the woman was trying to excuse her abandonment of her daughter in a bid to lessen her guilt and responsibility. He coldly spun the tale of his mother’s fight for her life: watching her uncle kill people she had known her entire life; being locked in a house with him and unable to escape; finding herself on the roof and then climbing down with Michael following her; her flight through the town in the dead of night, bloodied and battered, no one coming to help her, before she took refuge in the school with Dr. Loomis.

“How could a little girl be such a badass?” wondered an awed John.

“Like it or not, that’s the legacy that runs in our family,” Kurt said. “Michael is evil incarnate and believes he has to kill all of his blood relations, but it is the women in our family who always rise to meet him.”

“Loomis came for her?” Laurie finally whispered.

“He believed you were dead,” Kurt said, shrugging. “He felt a responsibility toward you that he was never able to fulfill, so he transferred that to Mom and did his best to keep her safe.”

She made a strangled noise in her throat. Sam Loomis had suffered enough because of her brother – and because of her. He deserved peace. She was greatly humbled, but also ashamed, that he had done for her daughter what she had not.

“Do you have a picture of her?” John murmured. “Do you have a picture of … my sister?”

Kurt stared at him for a moment before slowly retrieving his wallet from his back pocket. He searched through it and pulled out a photo, handing one to John.

“This was taken of her earlier that night. She hadn’t wanted to go trick-or-treating, not wanting anything to do with Halloween, but she decided she wanted a bit of normality, to be like the other kids.” He paused. “She didn’t know, and no one told her, that the costume she selected was identical to the one Uncle Michael wore when he killed Aunt Judith.”

Laurie moaned as John looked down at the photograph.

“She looks like me. Or I look like her.”

Jamie had his dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and pouty lips. He looked like her. They looked like their mother. Kurt, aside from his startling blue eyes, looked like them.

“Oh, god,” he whispered. “It’s true. This is really happening. I had a sister.”

He threw himself into the nearest chair. He couldn’t even look at his mother. How could she have done this? How could she have abandoned her child and never once tried to look for her, to find out how she was doing? How could she not have told him that he had a sister?

“May I see, please?” asked a tremulous Laurie.

John didn’t want to pass the picture to her, she didn’t deserve to see it, but he did anyway because he wanted her to feel the full weight of her stupid and thoughtless decision.

Laurie studied the picture as her tears continued to fall, before pressing it over her heart, whispering _my baby_ over and over again.

“How did she get away?” John asked dully.

“Rachel Carruthers, her foster sister,” Kurt said, passing him another photograph.

John looked down, seeing his beaming sister in the arms of a pretty teenage girl with curly blond hair. It was startling how much Rachel looked like his mom at that age.

“Michael had injured Doctor Loomis,” Kurt said, “and cornered Mom in the school. Rachel then appeared out of nowhere and drove him off with a fire extinguisher, before slamming it across his head. Mom had a sprained ankle, so Rachel carried her outside, got her into a truck, and some locals drove them out of town.”

“But it wasn’t over,” said a grimacing Laurie.

“Of course not. It will never be over. At any rate, Michael had made it out of the school and secured himself to the undercarriage. Once they were out of Haddonfield, he killed the men in the back of the pickup, before breaking the side window and ripping the face off the driver. Rachel, who was in the passenger seat, threw the driver out of the truck and began driving.

“By this time, Michael was on the roof. He attacked Rachel, but she managed to keep him off her with some pretty fancy driving. Finally, he put his head through the windshield. Rachel slammed on the brakes and he fell to the ground, several feet before the truck. Rachel knew he was only playing dead, so when he stood, she ramped up the truck, freed the brake, and ran him over. He was thrown twenty feet into a ravine.”

“Badass,” John muttered, shaking his head.

Laurie cocked her head.

Kurt set his jaw. “Mom … I don’t know _why_ she did it …”

Laurie’s heart sank.

“She thought Michael was dead, that the last of her family was dead. No matter how much she hated him and the things he did, she was a seven year old girl who was desperate to understand why she had no family, because she blamed herself.”

He curled his fists and glared out the window. “She went to his side and … and she touched him. She held his hand.” He swallowed heavily. “And something happened.”

“What?” John asked.

“She didn’t know how to explain it,” Kurt said. “She didn’t have the words. She didn’t recognize it at first, but when she and Rachel went home that night, Mom stabbed her foster mother with scissors.”

Laurie shook her head dumbly. “No. _No_.”

“Some kind of connection was forged between them. Mom didn’t even remember picking up the scissors. They didn’t hold it against her, they still loved her, but they were afraid. After the attack, Mom went mute and was committed to the children’s hospital.”

“Jesus,” John muttered.

“But he came for her again,” Laurie said. “You said he came back.”

Kurt nodded. “A little more than a year later. He had been presumed dead, his body washed away in the river. Mom knew he was still alive. She was having visions of him recovering from his injuries. Only Doctor Loomis believed her.”

John punched the chair in anger as Laurie sighed.

“Michael returned and the first thing he did was kill the person who had defeated him previously. He murdered Rachel because he knew how badly that would devastate Mom, and it did. Then he killed all of Rachel’s friends and many locals and police, as he is wont to do. Finally he was captured, but then there was an explosion at the jail. He took Mom and they disappeared for the next six years.”

“Six years?” Laurie screamed, jumping to her feet. “ _Six years?_ ”

Kurt regarded her with bemusement. It was a little late for her to start being maternal.

“What happened to Jamie?” she demanded.

He said nothing for a long moment, wanting to draw out her pain to maximize her suffering. She deserved it. She had taken the easy way out and doomed her daughter, his mother, to terror and torture for years. Maybe she believed she had done it for Jamie’s own good, but it was a weak excuse at best. She couldn’t have anticipated that Michael would fixate Jamie rather than her, but the bottom line was that she had condemned her daughter to save herself.

He pursed his lips. “I don’t really know, and neither did Mom. She didn’t remember most of it, but thought she had been drugged.”

Laurie reared back. “Drugged? That doesn’t make sense. Michael wouldn’t bother drugging her. He’d just kill her and be done with it. So why would he keep her that long?”

“Because he didn’t. What you don’t know, what most people don’t know, is that there is a cult that has sprung up around Michael’s legend. They claim it’s druidic in origin and is called the Thorn. They believe Michael is their god. All the times he’s seemingly disappeared over the years? He’s been with them. They care for him, heal him, shelter him. They have some measure of controlling him, but what that is and how it’s done is unknown to me.”

She held up her hand. “I can’t even begin to process something so ridiculous. If this were real, why hasn’t it been exposed? I’ve certainly never heard of it, and I’ve checked news reports often enough over the years to have learned about it.”

Kurt smirked. “Yet you didn’t know about my mother?”

Laurie froze. “I swear to you I did not know.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. Most of the reports were scrubbed. Only Haddonfield remembers now, and they’re not anxious to talk about their most famous citizen. As far as they’re concerned, Michael died with my mother.”

“What happened to my sister?” John seethed.

Kurt felt vindicated. It was obvious John had sided with him in this over his mother, which didn’t surprise him. He sensed that, while Laurie had confided most of the family secrets to him, he hadn’t believed or perhaps didn’t understand the true evil that was Michael Myers. Now that he knew he’d had a sister who had been essentially sacrificed, he wasn’t willing to accept the line Laurie had spent years selling.

“Like I said, she didn’t remember much because of the drugs. She was taken off them when she was fourteen.”

“Why then?”

Kurt grit his teeth. “Because she became pregnant.”

Laurie immediately sat back down as John’s eyes widened.

“Not with you,” he said. “You’re too young.”

“No,” Kurt agreed, “with my brother Steven.” He looked at Laurie and grinned. “Congratulations. It’s another boy.”

“Who’s the father?” she hissed.

He arched a brow. “According to your cousin, Kara Strode, who was in Haddonfield when Michael next appeared, it was Michael himself.”

She blanched and then vomited.

“Personally, I don’t subscribe to that theory. Mom said she wasn’t raped and in fact was still a virgin when she fell pregnant. She believed the Thorn had impregnated her through genetic engineering, and she doubted Michael was the father because there was too great a chance the child would be an idiot.”

“So why did they do it?” whispered an aghast John.

“To make the next Michael Myers.”

John put his head in his hands as Laurie began crying again.

“Where is he now?” John asked. “Where is Steven?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted. “I’ve been looking for him for a while, but there are no traces. After Mom delivered, the Thorn took the baby from her. A sympathetic nurse smuggled him back to Mom and helped her escape. Mom called into a Haddonfield radio station to warn them Michael was coming back, but they no more believed her then than they did previous. Only Doctor Loomis took it seriously.

“Michael found Mom and impaled her on a corn thresher. She had already hidden the baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” Laurie gasped.

“But she obviously didn’t die,” John said.

“No, but her injuries were severe and she wasn’t expected to recover.” He paused and looked at Laurie. “Do you remember Jill Franco?”

She gave a shaky nod. “She was a nurse at Haddonfield Memorial that night. She tried to help me.”

“Well, she had a brother named Peter who became a doctor. He was on duty the night Mom was brought in. He felt Michael had already taken too much from the town and, I guess, was as compassionate as his sister. He faked Mom’s death and got her out of town. He even had Loomis positively identify her body, though he had no idea Mom wasn’t actually dead.

“Peter made sure Mom had the best doctors and she eventually got well, but it took almost two years. The scarring, both mental and physical, was permanent. She wanted her baby back, and Peter did try to find him, but by then, Steven had disappeared and no one knew where he was. It’s possible Loomis knew but, if he did, he didn't know Mom was alive and took the secret of Steven with him to his grave.”

“Doctor Loomis is dead?” Laurie whispered.

“He had a series of strokes,” said a solemn Kurt, who held much respect for the man who did so much to help his mother. “The last one was fatal.”

“And no one knows _anything_ about Steven?” John asked.

“He was last seen when he was less than a week old,” Kurt said helplessly.

“But someone must have found him?” Laurie protested, still devastated that Loomis was gone.

“Tommy Doyle.”

She startled. “Little Tommy?”

“That night scarred him as much as it did you. He was regarded as the local weirdo in Haddonfield because he was deemed _not all there_ after what happened. He hated Michael Myers but revered you. You saved him that night. He felt the least he could do was save Jamie’s child.”

“How do you even know this?”

“Kara. It was difficult to find her. Michael killed her parents and brother that night and, after it was over, she left town and understandably changed her name. I never told her who I really was. I knew Michael might be keeping an eye on her and I didn’t want him becoming fixated on me, although I’m sure I’ll eventually get my turn.”

“What does that mean?” John asked.

“The anniversary is tonight. If I could find Laurie Strode, so can he. And you’re recently seventeen, aren’t you Uncle John?” His eyes slid toward Laurie. “Uncle Michael always remembers his anniversaries. He sat in a sanitarium for fifteen years waiting for you. After that night, he did it again and came for Mom ten years later.”

John stared at his mother. “You really aren’t paranoid.”

“No, she isn’t,” Kurt said. “At any rate, I’m leaving and highly suggest you do the same. Gather up anyone left in the school and get the hell out of here.”

Laurie gaped. “I’m not just going to let you leave! There’s so much more I need to know!”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Kurt said flatly, “nor do you have any power over me. If you survive tonight, I might find you again. I don’t suggest you try finding me. If you do and bring Uncle Michael down on my father and friends, you won’t have to worry about him eventually killing you, because I’ll do it myself.”

She stared at him.

“Make no mistake: I hold no loyalty or affection for you. My mother grew up without parents and in a psycho’s crosshairs because you couldn’t get past your own fear. You picked up the pieces of your life and went on, for better or worse, and created something new for yourself. You remarried, had another child, and have a career. You left my mother behind. I’m just thankful she died before I was able to track you down. It would have destroyed her to know you were still alive.”

“How did Jamie die?” asked an imploring John.

“Ovarian cancer. They had told her she would never have another child because of her injuries but, by some miracle, she had me. She was pregnant four years later. She began hemorrhaging and, when they did a laparoscopy to determine the cause, they found the cancer. She lost the baby and died two weeks later. She was twenty-six.”

Laurie gather a breath. “Please, I have to know …”

Kurt held up a finger when his phone began ringing. “Brittany? What is it?”

They watched as he paled.

“You’re sure.” He paused and nodded. “All right. Get the others and start driving. I don’t care where and it’s better if you don’t tell me. It’s possible he knows about me. He’ll either come for me or Laurie. Yes, she’s alive. If it’s me he’s after, I don’t want him using you to get to me. I’ll meet you at our spot in a week.”

His eyes filled. “Shh. Don’t cry, honey. I have every intention of living through this. If I don’t survive, know that I loved you and went down fighting to end his miserable existence.”

He hung up on her protests and looked at Laurie. “Marion Chambers was just found dead in the home she was given by Doctor Loomis. Her throat was slashed.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

“I wish you good luck. I hope you won’t need it, but the past was never at rest, Laurie. Some part of you always knew this day would come. For what it’s worth, you beat him once. You can do it again.”

“I’m not that girl anymore,” she whispered. “I was strong then because I was young and naïve.”

“That girl is still inside you. You just repressed her by trying to repress the memories.”

“What about you?” John asked. “Aren’t you scared?”

“Terrified, but Michael has no conceivable reason to know about me. As far as he’s concerned, he killed Jamie Lloyd years ago, long before I was born. Mom was careful to hide her tracks.” He gave one last look at Laurie. “Get out while you can. If he finds you, kill him. If it’s me he’s after, I promise to do the same. This ends tonight, one way or the other.”

She tried to grab him but he pushed her away and into John. They fell to the floor and he made his escape. By the time they righted themselves, he had disappeared.

“This can’t be happening,” John whispered.

“We have to go!” Laurie insisted, dragging him after her.

 

* * *

 

 

Kurt passed the laundry room and grabbed a spare uniform, quickly changing into it. He darted out into the hallway, passed an abandoned classroom, and found some books on a shelf, stuffing them into a tote hanging on the coatrack. He strode outside with purpose, but made sure his gait didn’t look hurried.

He climbed into the car he had rented and calmly drove to the gate, waving at the guard, who looked hard at him for a moment before letting him pass. As he drove out toward the main road, he noticed an old pickup parked on the side. It hadn’t been there when he had arrived.

And he _knew_. He felt it in his bones.

Whatever connection his mother had with Michael Myers had been passed onto him, at least in some measure. He only hoped it didn’t run both ways.

He looked in the rearview mirror and hoped Laurie would heed his advice. Of course, it was probably already too late. He saw a shape almost gliding toward the school via the woods. The setting sun glinted just a fraction off a white mask that was too familiar.

“Happy Halloween, Granny. Try to live.”

He drove away.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
